Wednesday, August 17, 2016

#83: Not Mine


If I were to be honest, poems are less like an invention, and more like a discovery. The words existed long before I ever did and they will live on long after I leave this world. And the concepts are forged from either human experience or a swell of madness in my mind. I can't quite grasp why certain ideas pop in to my head but when the inspiration is there, it is a chance to seize the creative opportunity. If the inspiration was born out of experience, I thank God for the experience, if it was born out of madness, I thank God for the inspiration.

Once the inspiration is there, it's stuck in my head until I put it to the pen. When it's a great poem, my bones are on fire. The words just rush in to my head and fit like puzzle pieces. Eventually though, the inspiration gives way to reality. A word comes along that expresses my point but does not fit the form. I could maybe come up with a lesser word, or try to rearrange the words to make it fit. Or I could just delete that line altogether. When it's a good line but it doesn't fit, it hurts to remove it. But that line may fit in to another poem someday.

Deleting a good line from a poem is difficult. Finishing  a poem though is the greatest struggle. When the ideas are coming together and the words are fitting, I have to ask myself, "is this the best way to say what I am trying to say?" I could keep asking myself this question over and over but eventually, the poem just needs to be finished. Once finished, I look at the completed work and hope it makes sense when others read it.

Ultimately, a poem is written for two reasons. For the writer to express something, and the reader to understand something in a new light. When I write a poem, it is not for me nor are the words inherently from me. It is in this sense that the poems I write are not mine at all.




As words flow 
I don’t really know 
Where they come from 

The heart will bend 
To paper and pen 
I don’t understand 

All that’s within 
Is more than a whim 
This goes beyond me 

Words from my head 
Of a complex stead 
Are not mine 

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